“I wouldn’t miss it,” he promises.
I excuse myself to do the dishes, and swipe furiously at my eyes as soon as my back is to the two of them. Jude comes up behind me, reaching around me to put his plate in the sink. His arm makes the barest contact with my waist, and I resist the urge to fall into him.
“I’m almost done out there,” he says. “Do you have plans the rest of the day?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. He moves away from me, and I miss the heat of his body.
Want to go for a ride? he asks Max, who answers by jumping up and down.
“I’ll get us dressed,” I say shyly.
An entire cold shower later and I’m still replaying Jude’s hand clasping my own and his arm brushing against me.
I’ve just stepped out of the bath when Jude appears.
“Max is watching cartoons,” he tells me. “I got his shoes on.”
I wrap my towel tighter around my chest. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be ready.”
I don’t know why I feel self-conscious. He’s seen me far more undressed than this.
“I think I’ll get cleaned up a little if you don’t mind. Not much I can do about the clothes,” he says, gesturing to the sweat and oil stains, “but the rest of me washes off.”
“I’ll throw your shirt in the dryer,” I say. “It won’t do much, but it won’t be sweaty.”
Hooking his thumb around the hem, he pulls it over his head and holds it out to me. I know the body he’s put on display, but having seen it before doesn’t make me want it any less.
I excuse myself hurriedly, shutting the door behind me. Tossing Jude’s shirt in the dryer, I slump against the wall.
Take it slow.
Dr. Allen says I need time to heal, and to accept that my relationships have changed. I know that’s true. It’s why I’ve kept Jude at a distance, but seeing him like that reminded me that some feelings don’t change. I wait ten minutes, listening to the whir of the dryer, before I pull his shirt back out and take it to him. He’s washing his hair in the sink. His hands massage the soap into his silky, black locks, putting the broad muscles of his shoulders on display.
“Give me a hand,” he calls over the running water.
I put his shirt on the towel rack and move tentatively to him, cupping my hand under the faucet. I help rinse the soap from the hair at the back of his neck. At this angle, I see three words hidden among the tribal symbols inked over his shoulder. I know so much about this man, but there’s still more to discover if I’m willing.
Quaere veritatem tuam.
I trace the letters. “What does this mean?”
Jude reaches for a towel, and I step back as he wraps it around his head. “It means seek the truth.”
“What truth is that?” I ask.
“I used to think it meant beauty and love and success.”
“And now?” I whisper.
He tosses the towel to the floor and steps closer.
“You,” he murmurs. “You’re the truth I’ve been seeking my whole life.”
He cups my face in his hand, but as his lips slant over mine, a tiny body squirms between us.
We break apart laughing. “I think someone’s ready to go.”
Jude grabs his shirt and pulls it on. Lead the way.
Max makes a beeline for the door, and I rush to keep up with him. When I finally catch him, I ask as a sign, “What about our car?”
He shakes his head and points outside to the yellow Jeep.
“I guess that’s up to his daddy,” I say to Jude over Max’s head.
Ask your mommy, Jude orders Max, who turns pleading eyes up to me.
“Fine.”
Jude grabs the booster seat from my car and we pile into the Jeep. The afternoon warmth is already taking hold, so he unzips the sides of the soft top. With Max in the car, Jude drives cautiously, allowing me to finally enjoy the ride he promised me months ago. I hold my hand outside the window allowing the breeze to slice through the gaps between my fingers. My hair whips around my face. I don’t ask where we’re going. It hardly matters.
Twisting around, I check on Max, whose smile stretches from ear to ear.
“I think he likes it,” Jude calls over. He pulls off the road into the parking lot of Chetzemoka Park. He jumps out, insisting on lifting Max from the Jeep and setting him safely on the ground.
“I’m new to this dad thing,” he whispers to me. “How am I doing?”
“Perfect,” I murmur.
Max grabs us both by the hands and drags us toward the swing set. When we reach it, Jude crouches in front of him. “I want to talk to your mom,” he says. “Is that okay?”
Max nods before dashing off to climb on the playground equipment.
“Come on,” Jude says, taking my hand.
Within eyesight, a small footbridge has been built over a sliver of a creek.
“This is beautiful,” I say, looking around. “I’ve never been here.”